


Trusting

by hutchynstarsk



Category: Common Law
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchynstarsk/pseuds/hutchynstarsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes doesn't trust people.  He just doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trusting

Most days, Wes is too tough to let anything through to hurt him. Inside, where it could really hurt him, that is. Surface irritants still come and go and earn an automatic response, whether telling someone off or more often a restrained and tight-lipped silence, punctuated by a slightly superior, sarcastic remark. He knows it doesn’t earn him much popularity; he’s okay with that. But respect would be nice, and damn it, he’s earned it even if he doesn’t always get it.

You try growing up a skinny, uncoordinated blond-haired boy who’s too smart and can’t keep his mouth shut to not let everyone know, and see if you don’t have to develop a hard shell just to survive. Wes never was like Travis, able to charm the birds from the trees and the girls from their clothes, and turn enemies into friends. He’s the sort of guy who ends up in a bar fight without even meaning to, because he managed to piss someone off.

Wes got big enough, strong enough, and coordinated enough to look after himself, thank you very much. But he’ll never be a big guy, and he’ll never be the likeable, everybody’s-friend guy.

He’s okay with that. Most of the time. And anyway, nothing gets through to hurt him, really hurt him anymore. He shut that part of himself down long ago. Everything is on the surface now, and he’s tough, hard as a rock. Yeah.

You gotta be tough in this game. The thing is, when you’re 155 pounds soaking wet and blond and sort of... delicate looking by some people’s definitions (compared to gorillas and linebackers, anyway), you have to be twice as tough as anybody else. Or else just not give a damn, and not let yourself get close enough to let anyone hurt you. He learned that early in the job. 

Some people will be nice to your face and then talk shit about you behind your back at the water cooler, and mock you for your fancy lawyer degree. Pretend to be your friend and throw you under the bus for precinct politics. Wes doesn’t trust anyone who’s too friendly, because they might be like that.

It’s true that Travis got past his guard, when he was younger and stupider. They worked together so well, and liked each other so much, once upon a time. The loyalty is still there even though the affection has mostly turned to a sort of suppressed rage that comes out in sniping and backbiting and sort of hating each other, sometimes.

Even though he doesn’t. Could never really hate Travis. It’s just so damned hard, sometimes. Travis is everything Wes isn’t, could never be. It seems so easy for Travis: he’s effortlessly cool, confident, and tough but also friendly, well-liked, and sexy. He seems to project this open attitude to the world, a puppy-dog mien, easy to like, easy to trust. Even though he’s kind of slick and dangerous, too, and of course he’s really not safe around the ladies.

It doesn’t matter, Wes tells himself. He wouldn’t want to be like that anyway. What good is trying to be friends with any- and everybody? He just wants one or two friends, people he can trust. Not someone like Travis, who will smile at him and then laugh at him behind his back.

Anyway, that’s what he tells himself. That he was stupid to trust his partner now as much as he used to; that he won’t stick his neck out so far ever again.

Except he does. Damn it, he does—all the time.


End file.
